by Mayne Reid
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Free Lances, by Captain Mayne Reid.
CHAPTER ONE.
VOLUNTEERS FOR TEXAS.
"I'll go!"
This laconism came from the lips of a young man who was walking alongthe Levee of New Orleans. Just before giving utterance to it he hadmade a sudden stop, facing a dead wall, enlivened, however, by a largeposter, on which were printed, in conspicuous letters, the words--
"Volunteers for Texas!"
Underneath, in smaller type, was a proclamation, setting forth thetreachery of Santa Anna and the whole Mexican nation, recalling instrong terms the Massacre of Fanning, the butchery of Alamo, and otherlike atrocities; ending in an appeal to all patriots and lovers offreedom to arm, take the field, and fight against the tyrant of Mexicoand his myrmidons.
"I'll go!" said the young man, after a glance given to the printedstatement; then, more deliberately re-reading it, he repeated the wordswith an emphasis that told of his being in earnest.
The poster also gave intimation of a meeting to be held the same eveningat a certain _rendezvous_ in Poydras Street.
He who read only lingered to make note of the address, which was thename of a noted _cafe_. Having done this, he was turning to continuehis walk when his path was barred by a specimen of humanity, who stoodfull six foot six in a pair of alligator leather boots, on the_banquette_ by his side, "So ye're goin', air ye?" was thehalf-interrogative speech that proceeded from the individual thusconfronting him.
"What's that to you?" bluntly demanded the young fellow, his temper alittle ruffled by what appeared an impertinent obstruction on the partof some swaggering bully.
"More'n you may think for, young 'un," answered the booted Colossus,still standing square in the way; "more'n you may think for, seein' it'sthrough me that bit o' paper's been put up on that 'ere wall."
"You're a bill-sticker, I suppose?" sneeringly retorted the "young 'un."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the giant, with a cachinnation that resembled theneighing of a horse. "A bill-sticker, eh! Wal; I likes that. An' Ilikes yur grit, too, young feller, for all ye are so sassy. But yeneedn't git riled, an' I reckon ye won't, when I tell ye who I am."
"And who are you; pray?"
"Maybe ye mount a hearn o' Cris Rock?"
"What! Cris Rock of Texas? He who at Fanning's--"
"At Fannin's massacree war shot dead, and kim alive agin."
"Yes," said the interrogator, whose interrogatory referred to the almostmiraculous escape of one of the betrayed victims of the Goliad butchery.
"Jess so, young feller. An' since ye 'pear to know somethin' 'bout me,I needn't tell ye I ain't no _bill-sticker_, nor why I 'peared to showimpartinence by putting in my jaw when I heern ye sing out, `I'll go.'I thort it wouldn't need much introduxshun to one as I mout soon hope tocall kumarade. Yer comin' to the rendyvoo the night, ain't ye?"
"Yes; I intend doing so."
"Wal, I'll be there myself; an' if ye'll only look high enough, I reck'nye kin sight me 'mong the crowd. 'Tain't like to be the shortest thar,"he added, with a smile that bespoke pride in his superior stature, "tho'ye'll see some tall 'uns too. Anyhow, jest look out for Cris Rock; and,when foun', that chile may be of some sarvice to ye."
"I shall do so," rejoined the other, whose good humour had become quiterestored.
About to bid good-bye, Rock held out a hand, broad as the blade of acanoe-paddle. It was freely taken by the stranger, who, while shakingit, saw that he was being examined from head to foot.
"Look hyar!" pursued the Colossus, as if struck by some thought which acloser scrutiny of the young man's person had suggested; "hev ye everdid any sogerin'? Ye've got the look o' it."
"I was educated in a military school--that's all."
"Where? In the States?"
"No. I am from the other side of the Atlantic."
"Oh! A Britisher. Wal, that don't make no difference in Texas. Thar'sall sorts thar. English, ain't ye?"
"No," promptly answered the stranger, with a slight scornful curling ofthe lip: "I'm an Irishman, and not one of those who deny it."
"All the better for that. Thar's a bit of the same blood somewhar in myown veins, out o' a grandmother, I b'lieve, as kim over the mountainsinto Kaintuck, 'long wi' Dan Boone an' his lot. So ye've been eddycatedat a milintary school, then? D'ye unnerstan' anything about thetrainin' o' sogers?"
"Certainly I do."
"Dog-goned, ef you ain't the man we want! How'd ye like to be anofficer? I reck'n ye're best fit for that."
"Of course I should like it; but as a stranger among you, I shouldn'tstand much chance of being elected. You choose your officers, don'tyou?"
"Sartin, we eelect 'em; an' we're goin' to hold the eelections this verynight. Lookee hyar, young fellur; I like yer looks, an' I've seed proofye've got the stuff in ye. Now, I want to tell ye somethin' ye oughterto know. I belong to this company that's jest a formin', and thar's afellur settin' hisself up to be its capting. He's a sort o' halfSpanish, half French-Creole, o' Noo-Orleans hyar, an' we old Texansdon't think much o' him. But thar's only a few o' us; while 'mong theOrleans city fellurs as are goin' out to, he's got a big pop'larity bystandin' no eend o' drinks. He ain't a bad lookin' sort for sogerin',and has seen milintary sarvice, they say. F'r all that, thar's ahangdog glint 'bout his eyes this chile don't like; neither do some o'the others. So, young un, if you'll come down to the rendyvoo in goodtime, an' make a speech--you kin speechify, can't ye?"
"Oh, I suppose I could say something."
"Wal, you stump it, an' I'll put in a word or two, an' then we'llperpose ye for capting; an' who knows we mayent git the majority arterall? You'er willin' to try, ain't ye?"
"Quite willing," answered the Irishman, with an emphasis which showedhow much the proposal was to his mind. "But why, Mr Rock, are you nota candidate yourself? You have seen service, and would make a goodofficer, I should say."
"Me kandydate for officer! Wal, I'm big enough, thet's true, and ef youlike, ugly enuf. But I ain't no ambeeshum thet way. Besides, thischile knows nothin' 'bout _drill_; an' that's what's wanted bad. Yesee, we ain't had much reg'lar sogerin' in Texas. Thar's whar theMexikins hev the advantage o' us, an' thar's whar you'll hev the same ifyou'll consent to stan'. You say you will?"
"I will, if you wish it."
"All square then," returned the Texan, once more taking his _protege_ bythe hand, and giving it a squeeze like the grip of a grizzly bear."I'll be on the lookout for ye. Meanwhile, thar's six hours to the goodyet afore it git sundown. So go and purpar' yur speech, while I slideroun' among the fellurs, an' do a leetle for ye in the line o'canvassin'."
After a final bruin-like pressure of the hand the giant had commencedstriding away, when he came again to a halt, uttering a loud "Hiloo!"
"What is it?" inquired the young Irishman.
"It seems that Cris Rock air 'bout one o' the biggest nummorskulls inall Noo-Orleans. Only to think! I was about startin' to take the stumpfor a kandydate 'ithout knowin' the first letter o' his name. How wurye crissened, young fellur?"
"Kearney--Florence Kearney."
"Florence, ye say? Ain't that a woman's name?"
"True; but in Ireland many men bear it."
"Wal, it do seem a little kewrious; but it'll do right slick, and theKearney part soun's well. I've hern speak o' Kate Kearney; thar's asong 'bout the gurl. Mout ye be any connexshun o' hern?"
"No, Mr Rock; not that I'm aware of. She was a Killarney woman. I wasborn a little further north on the green island."
"Wal, no matter what part o' it, y
ur are welkim to Texas, I reck'n, orthe States eyther. Kearney--I like the name. It hev a good ring, an'it'll soun' all the better wi' `Capting' for a handle to 't--the whichit shall hev afore ten o'clock this night, if Cris Rock ain't astray inhis reck'nin'. But see as ye kum early to the rendyvoo, so as to hevtime for a talk wi' the boys. Thar's a somethin' in that; an' if ye'vegot a ten dollar bill to spare, spend it on drinks all round. Thar's agood deal in that too."
So saying, the Texan strode off, leaving Florence Kearney to reflectupon the counsel so opportunely extended.
